


Later Days

by Talullah



Category: Latter Days (2003)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-21
Updated: 2014-08-21
Packaged: 2018-02-14 04:10:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2177379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Talullah/pseuds/Talullah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A chance meeting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Later Days

**Author's Note:**

> This piece was not betaed!
> 
> Written for the July 2007 Bingo at obscurefandom.
> 
> [Disclaimer/Blanket Statement](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Talullah/profile)

_Why can't love be blind instead of just a blind man crying - why can't love be blind'?_ Potion - Mark Sandman

So here's what happens after 'happily ever after': you move together, you have a couple of happy years, and you think it will last forever even when cosy then cold replace flaming passion, laundry takes precedence to a walk in the park and discussing the stupid bills that never stop arriving seems more important than spending hours talking about the sweet little nothings of the day. In the morning you shave thinking that you're late for your miserly job - long gone are the days where you turn your head thinking of excuses for being late and indulge in morning sex. In the evening, you have chores. Cooking dinner used to be fun for two. True that often enough an angry fire detector was the only way of diverting your attention from each other's skin to the neglected stove. And Saturday mornings, fooling around with the vacuum cleaner, making silly poses with the duster, in a two man karaoke orgy. Freddy Mercury couldn't have done it better for sure. You smile, thinking of it, but you know you can't get it back. Where has all that love gone? The current state of affairs, this coldness sharpening with silences until one of you will fall on it and bleed to death... where did it come from?

One day it happens. The signs were there blinking in furious neon colours. All that was missing was an angel trumpeting your own private apocalypse. You knew it was coming. You knew. But you're still surprised to see that sombre man sitting in that living room that doesn't feel quite yours now that his things are packed, waiting in neat cruel boxes by the door. You know it's pointless asking for a second try but you do, because all that coldness has lifted so suddenly that you're blinded by the love that was there all along, suffocated, embers of everything, ashes of nothing. He smiles sadly, shakes his head, defeated. Says it hurts him too and you can see his eyes shining. He always was the sentimental one, but all of a sudden you're the one sobbing, pleading, kneeling, abjectly wallowing in Instant Misery (R). Of course he wouldn't believe you - you're an actor, for fuck's sake. But the sad thing is that he does. And still leaves.

You blink.

Stop.

Breathe.

* * *

**Later days**

"Time is a bitch," Christian thinks, but this is not his first thought. A jolt of recognition shakes him to the core. He doesn't believe in fate or chance or much anything come to see it, not since he was young, so much younger than he can recall. But this has to be some sort of twisted joke from above. Not that there is anyone above, mind you. Aaron stands across the room of his cheesy hotel, looking not a day older than twenty though he's... how long has it been? Twenty three years, already? Aaron at forty-three standing before him in khaki shorts and some sort of odd vest... is he trying to imitate a photographer? Has he become one?

Christian almost laughs incredulously or is it nervously, that knot on his stomach can't be his ulcer, not this early in the morning. He steps forward from the elevator door where he has been idiotically standing for several minutes to the front desk where Aaron seems to be sailing against waves of red tape.

"Aaron, is that you?" Christian interiorly laughs at his dorkiness. Going like this he'll soon be award material.

Aaron looks up, a look of slight confusion, replaced by recognition, then a wide, brilliant smile, then a slight frown, then a polite nod from behind a curtain of fake coolness. Aaron could never really hide his feelings, Christian thinks, breaking the ice, pulling him into an unequal embrace, holding firmly enough for Aaron to relax just a little, just enough. The part but Christian keeps close, too close for politeness, too close to keep the illusion that time is kind. Time is a bitch. Under his ridiculous vest Aaron hides a pot belly, not like an advanced pregnancy but a far cry from his trimmer days. Around his eyes whitish wrinkles crack his forced tan, moving enthusiastically with every expression. Aaron's dirty blond locks have become generously sprinkled of grey and the softness of youth has definitely left that face forever. Still Christian feels he has to touch, be close.

"You registering?" he asks, his hand all too possessively on Aaron's arm. "What are you doing here? Where you've been? You look great! How are you?"

Aaron's fake reserve melts into a genuine grin as the questions pour. "Hold it, hold it," he begs. "Well, not registering, trying to leave, if they manage to print the invoice correctly this time. I was in town just for a conference and I'm leaving in a few minutes. Hopefully," he adds casting a venomous glance at the receptionist.

This is new, Christian thinks. "Well, do you have time for a coffee or something at least?" Aaron looks undecidedly, but the receptionist cuts in. "Sir, we still have to call the headquarters to solve the overcharging business so it will take a few minutes. If you care to wait in the bar we'll glad you call you when the invoice is ready."

Christian beams, making a mental note of tipping the boys as generously as he can later. He drags Aaron by the arm to the bar, empty, vaguely dusty and tired-looking in the morning light. He can almost hear a sight of relieve coming from the reception counter.

They flop down into over comfortable chairs and wait for the waiter. Christian starts second-guessing his decision as the silence stretches the distance between them.

"So," they start simultaneously, breaking down in laughter. Christian sighs relieved - if Aaron can still laugh like that he can't have change that much. "So," repeats, "you go first. What's with the outfit?"

"Oh, my field clothes... I guess I am what you'd call a biologist."

"Really?" Christian raises an eyebrow. "Let me guess, you're working for one of those Creationist lobbies."

Aaron laughs again, but Christian detects a tinge of annoyance as he corrects his guess. "Am I that predictable? Well, not anymore, no. I started off paying the infinite college loans by working for one, yeah. They paid me peanuts and expected me to work like a slave. Got kicked out when someone discovered I was gay."

Christian nods with an understanding frown. "Well, with that kind of group I suppose you couldn't expect better..."

"Yeah, but that was lucky, actually. I got offered a nice scholarship in Alaska, travelled a bit, Canada, Europe, South America a couple of times..."

Christian smiles. "So life has been treating you kindly. That's good to know. What exactly is it that you do now? Saving the whales?"

Aaron laughs, this time with no reserve. "How can you still know me that well? Yeah, I'm in conservation..."

Christian laughs with him, enjoying the easy rapport that is emerging. He dares taunting. "It was a lucky guess, but I'm not surprised that there's still a bit of a missionary boy inside you."

Aaron slowly shakes his head. "And you? I saw you in that add..."

Christian throws his head back with a loud snort. "God, you must be the only person who still remembers that." He actually feels a blush creeping into his tan and but before he can elaborate, the receptionist arrives with the invoice in his hand.

"Your taxi is outside, sir."

Aaron and Christian exchange an uneasy glance. Too little. Just too damn little.

Aaron fumbles through his thousand pockets, finally extracting a card with a triumphal "Here!"

Christian takes it, stashing it in his shirt pocket. He knows he'll keep it but he also knows they won't call each other, won't reacquaint themselves, won't drop by when in town. His mouth sours.

"Do call me sometime," Aaron insists.

"I will," Christian promises emptily. Even now he can see how ridiculous and futile and unwanted his call will be. Their eyes meet.

"Do call," Aaron repeats himself. "I'm sorry we lost touch before."

Christian bites his lip and extends his hand for a farewell shake, but this time it is Aaron who pulls him close for a hug.

* * *

He does call. Aaron is busy and asks him to call later. Christian doesn't but Aaron, surprisingly, had meant it. He calls back that very same night. They start slowly, talking about work, their current interests, silly things, including the TV that Aaron doesn't watch anymore but where Christian can still land some roles. Then some gossip about their friends, the friends Aaron forsake when he left. Then the inevitable question that both want to ask pops, awkward and heavy: is there someone.

Christian gasps and looks at the clock. He sighs. "There was this date boy sort of thing." Aaron chuckles, looking at his own watch and realizing almost two hours have gone by. "Sorry," he offers but both know he's not that contrite about it.

"Ah well," Christian sighs. "He was too young for me, anyway."

Aaron's chuckle deepens. They talk. They have twenty years of mistakes and longing and happiness to catch up. Maybe they have more than that, Christian thinks as he glances at the kitchen clock. Three hours have gone by. He's eaten a quart of frozen yogurt that won't do his abs any good, and his ear is aching, and his bladder is starting to demand some serious attention, but he doesn't want to hang up. Not yet. He hears a doorbell ringing afar and Aaron excuses himself. Says he'll call again tomorrow. Christian smiles and agrees, but doesn't hold his breath. This was one of those reuniting things that is good while it lasts, then ends. Pity; rediscovering Aaron was the highlight of his week. More than that, if he is to be honest.

But Aaron calls the next day. And Christian calls the day after. And after. He's starting to jump up when the phone rings hours before the time Aaron leaves work. Blessed time zones; he'd die if he had to wait for the evening to hear Aaron again. He silently giggles, then curses, then grins like an idiot but he's too old to be confused: this is love. Aaron with his incipient belly and his warm voice and his crinkled eyes makes him feel like a boy again and it's stupid and it's just so damned good. He doesn't even let Aaron finish the invitation for the weekend in Massachusetts. "Yes," he breathes over the miles. He starts packing as soon as they hang up, though there's still three days to go.

The weekend is still in its first quarter when the first fight breaks out. Aaron still can't drive for shit and Christian gasps and Aaron takes offence, and they quarrel over things past and present until they burst into unexpected laughter and Aaron pulls over. They kiss right there on I-90, and Christian can't remember ever being this hungry for another. He's forty, he thinks, as Aaron's hand searches his groin. He can't be doing that on the open, too old, but his hand is too wily and their mouths are too eager, and Aaron is sighing that special sigh, and screw it all. He shuts his eyes and searches more skin and that scent that has subtly changed but still feels like home more than any other man that he ever had. Aaron has learned a few tricks, so it seams but Christian is not interested in finesse. It's all too quick but so good. When it's over, Christian relaxes in his seat and naps the rest of the way to Aaron's flat. He hadn't come this fast since he was in his twenties.

The rest of the weekend is delightful. It has been years since Christian felt this good. They bicker some more, but always affectionately, good-humouredly. Aaron calls California first thing Monday morning to check on Christian. He had to set his alarm clock for that and he'll miss the sleep, Christian knows it and fully appreciates it.

Before they know it, a year has gone by. Christian never expected it to last a month. When the second anniversary comes, they decide to do the romantic thing and go to Paris. Somewhere in his heart, Christian is still expecting it to be over - he has learned to take nothing for granted but he also has learned to enjoy what good he can get.

Five years of cross continental romance go by and Aaron finally brings up the silent issue. Should he get work in the West Coast? Christian is afraid. Will they be too close? Will they lose each other again? And Aaron, would he be happy quitting the job he loves so? Christian is fed up of L.A., truth be told. His savings would allow for the move and a comfortable life back East. Could he do it? He can't. He's scared.

The stalemate brings some resentment, but not the break-up that Christian still expects every day. To his amazement, they hold on. He never knew they could be so resilient.

One day he wakes to find that another five years have gone by. He's lonely. He's working less. He's really starting to hate the sun and the gossip and the cars. He gets on the first plane before he can think too much. The things he's thrown into his duffel bag will probably prove themselves useless in the cooler East but he's not thinking on that as he stares at the clouds. He's trying to imagine Aaron's face as he opens the door. Will there be a secret lover peeking behind his shoulder? They have never spoken of exclusivity, but he hasn't been with anyone else since that first weekend. Aaron is enough. Is he enough? Will they work out this time? The know in his stomach tightens impossibly as they land on Logan. Christian has never been afraid of flying. This sheer terror is all new.

Aaron doesn't have a secret lover. He's not the type, Christian knows that. He simply stands at the door, disbelieving but happy with the surprise. Then he welcomes Christian and tries to understand that stuttered explanation waved with apologies and I'd better just go's; then he holds Christian and kisses the top of his head. "Silly, silly boy." In a world that keeps getting younger each day, only Aaron could still think of him as a boy.

It's all easier than he had thought. Selling the flat, living happily ever after this time. They do it. Aaron retires a few years later and they are still together. Christian is still amazed. True love does last forever. It just needs a little time to fully blossom sometimes. But that's all right. Time is theirs.

 

_Finis  
July 2007_


End file.
